


Lazy Fucker

by elementalv



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Established Relationship, M/M, Morning Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementalv/pseuds/elementalv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wakes up to a dick in his ass, which offers a neat symmetry, considering he fell asleep with a dick in his ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazy Fucker

Stiles wakes up to a dick in his ass, which offers a neat symmetry, considering he fell asleep with a dick in his ass. It says more than he likes about his life that he has a brief concern that it might not be the same dick as the one the night before. But there’s a familiar twist-withdraw combo that reassures him, and he pushes back just enough to indicate he’s awake.

After that, he lies there curled on his side, fully comfortable with letting someone else do all the work, because while he’s a fan of lazy morning sex, the emphasis is on _lazy_. He figures he’s high-energy the rest of the time, always the one going for the positions that require way more flexibility than he may actually have, so there’s no reason to feel guilty about being a slug in the morning. Also, there’s the pure kick of being half asleep and being almost convinced that there’s a stranger behind him, and never mind that the “stranger” knows exactly which buttons to push and when.

Speaking of buttons, oh yeah— there’s the hand. Stiles adores that hand, loves how strong it is, loves the hint of danger that comes from sleeping with someone who could initiate blood play without ever having to get out of bed for the right tools. One of these days, he’ll talk Derek into trying it, but that day isn’t today, because today is for a lazy morning fuck with bonus reach-around.

He groans in approval, and for a few seconds, there’s a nice little feedback loop of him groaning and Derek squeezing with not quite enough pressure to bring Stiles off. It’s the best kind of hand job, because it’s the kind that manages to shut off Stiles’ brain in three-two-

Everything but pure animal pleasure falls away, and Stiles becomes a mess of sparking want and need, and any other time, he’d be too self-conscious to writhe around, but with Derek’s dick up his ass and Derek’s hand around his cock, Stiles loses every bit of ironic detachment he uses as a shield against the world. He’s making noise, a lot of it, judging by the way his throat feels, and that’s absolutely perfect, because the more noise he makes, the more wild Derek gets, and Jesus, could this feel any better?

Derek lets go of Stiles’ cock, and Stiles is vaguely aware of whining about that, but then he feels the scrape of Derek’s nails — claws! — along his belly and the slight pinch of Derek’s fangs on his neck, and his cock jerks twice, and that’s all the warning they get before Stiles comes hard — jizz landing high on his chest like it’s some kind of contest to see how far it will go.

He can practically feel the smug rising off Derek like so much steam, and then Derek’s hips move faster as he starts chasing his own orgasm. Stiles would help — really, he would — but he knows from experience that at this point, he won’t be able to match Derek’s rhythm well enough to make a difference. So he holds still on his side to keep his still-sensitive dick from rubbing on the sheets and tries to clamp down on Derek’s dick with each thrust. The irregular effort does more for Derek than Stiles would have thought, and it’s only a few seconds more before Derek is swearing under his breath and coming in Stiles’ ass.

They lie there for nearly a minute before Derek finally pulls out carefully, saying something about getting a wash cloth, which means — god damn it.

“God damn it,” Stiles says with as much energy as he can (it’s not much — he was still half asleep when he came, and now he’s slipping into his usual post-coital coma). “Condom,” he slurs.

Derek, who turns into a perky fucker after fucking, says, “You were all right without one last night.”

Stiles has something to say about that, and he will. But right now, Derek is cleaning him up using the softest washcloth in the world, and he really needs to finish sleeping. He’ll bitch about the mess later, after he has breakfast. Or lunch. Dinner, at the absolute latest.


End file.
